When 2008 dawned, I promised myself (and Visa) that I’d curtail my trips to Joburg to watch bands. I managed to fool myself for a few weeks, tops. I suspect the oversized credit company knew it was a hoax all along. Oh well, there’s something to be said for living on gigs and toast. Anyways, Paul E. Flynn and the Seeds of Doubt went heads up against Greenhouse Effect and the latest “indie rock” outfit to leave the cookie-cutter, Munkinpure.
Paul E Flynn is the frontman of iconic South African rock group, Sugardrive. His solo album Fields has been in the works for a while now and it seems that with the collaboration of the Seeds of Doubt (Sean Strydom, Donovan Campbell and Paulo Rego). It’s set for an April release. Flynn has arguably the most distinctive voice in the country, and it’s the kind of voice that sends quivers racing along your skin. Especially if the window’s open.
Thursday night was one of the best gigs I’ve been to in months [catch the last time we covered them]. Smidgen of country but minus the Stetsons (although Paul did do an alarmingly accurate rendition of the redneck dance on stage). Too much time in Ireland perhaps. They were still rock enough to get me and the usual gig partner-in-crime up and dancing, and they had fantastic rapport with their audience. All in all, we had an awesome time (and not just because of the free wine that came with the burgers, which apparently only I was drinking!), the band looked like they were having loads of fun, and we were also taught a novel use for onions. My kinda show.
The support acts had more measuring up to do than a tailor before St Patrick’s Day. Greenhouse Effect played first, offering a funky image which immediately struck a chord with the hip kids. Switch the kit for a drum machine and let the trip-rock sound.
The final act was indie rock outfit Munkinpure, one of the bands coming up for air at Splashy Fen Music Festival (March 20-24, KZN — more here). The threepiece had the ill fate of a dilapidated audience. Blame the barman.
My beautician recently told me that the space between my eyebrows represents my liver and is crying out for mercy. Who knew. Anyway, it’s all relative. After all, what seems excessive to a Benedictine monk is veritably chaste by Paris Hilton’s standards! I guess I’m somewhere in between.
[ by Belinda Glenn ] | Overtone needs you like an overdue shiatsu. Write/shoot/film.
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